Because Joy is Better Than Happiness (Philippians 4:4-7, The Third Sunday of Advent)

⁴ Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. ⁵ Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. ⁶ Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Does anyone here have a motto?  What’s a motto?  I dunno, what’s a motto with you?

A motto is a maxim, a short phrase meant to formally summarize the general motivation or intention of an individual, family, social group or organization.  At best, they should be memorable and recognizable – let’s see if you recognize some of these famous corporate mottos:

“Quality is Job One.” – Ford Motor Company

“Just Do It.” – Nike

“Finger Lickin’ Good.” – Kentucky Fried Chicken

“The San Francisco Treat.” – Rice-a-Roni

“The Ultimate Driving Machine.” – BMW

A good motto says something about the product or service or group or person it represents.  Again, it’s a memorable summary statement.

Many individuals have developed personal mottos.  These can serve as sort of a guiding principle for decision-making, attitudes, and behaviors.  They help set the boundaries for who a person aspires to be and what they’re about.

Whether you realize it or not, some of you have personal mottos.  What are the phrases you hear yourself saying the most often?  More than likely, that phrase functions as a sort of motto.

One of Bob Sawyer’s mottos could be, “If it’s not illegal or immoral, get with the program and get on with it.”  Mike Myers’ motto could be, “Come on people, let’s get this bus, already!”

That should be enough to make the rest of you self-conscious for the rest of the day.  What are the phrases you say most often, particularly the ones that guide your decisions, help you prioritize, shape your attitudes and behaviors?  If you’re having trouble coming up with one, ask the people closest to you what you say most often, because they might recognize it better than you, yourself do.  More than likely, you’ve got yourself a life motto right there.  The next question, of course, is whether it’s a motto you’re proud to be known for, or not.

If Bobby McFerrin had a personal motto, I think it would be “Don’t Worry, Be Happy!” You probably know this song – sing a few lines with me:

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Here’s a little song I wrote, You might want to sing it note for note:

Don’t worry – be happy!

In every life we have some trouble, but when you worry you make it double

Don’t worry – be happy!

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This motto is starting to echo a bit of what we just read in the Scripture.  We are in the Advent season, preparing, waiting, watching for the coming of Christ into our world.  Today is the Third Sunday of Advent, it’s the day we focus on JOY, and the Lectionary has delivered us this little gem, four verses from Paul’s letter to the Philippians.

These four verses could easily be a motto for the church. “Rejoice in the Lord, always!” it says.  Have you ever had a teacher or a parent or an employer say something along the lines of “If you remember nothing else I say, remember this” – sort of underscoring the most important thing, the nugget that shouldn’t be lost, even if the rest of it slips out of your head?  Paul does the same thing here.  “Rejoice in the Lord, always, [and lest we miss the point] again, I say, Rejoice!”

Friends, Paul’s teaching here is clear: to be a Christian is to be a person of joy.  We are called to be people of joy.

Easier said than done.  Perhaps we do not live in the best of circumstances, we’ve got real problems and real worries and real concerns, and Paul is telling us to be people of joy?  With all due respect, and I said, “With all due respect,” my life is not filled with the most joy-inducing of circumstances right now.”

Of course, neither was Paul’s life.  He wrote this letter from prison.  Believe me, a first-century Roman prison was not a pleasant place to be – not an environment that naturally lent itself to joy.  And yet, Paul writes for us to rejoice, to be people of joy always – in all circumstances and at all times and with all people – what gives, here?

What gives is the difference between happiness and joy.  Happiness is a mood, an emotion, but it’s not something that comes from inside us, it’s driven by what’s around us.  Happiness is a product of our circumstances.  We might describe it as the difference between having a good day or a bad day – the weather is good, my team won, I have a good job, my family is healthy, there’s enough money in my bank account – I’m having a good day, I’m in a good mood, I’m happy.

And to be sure, there’s nothing wrong with being happy.  But, have you ever noticed how quickly a good day can turn into a bad day?  Happiness is fleeting; it doesn’t last because our circumstances change around us all the time, often in ways that we have no control over whatsoever.

And so, we often end up chasing happiness – finding ways to improve our circumstances, and therefore, to make ourselves happier.  We try to buy happiness, whether for ourselves or those around us.  At this time of the year, does a big pile of presents make someone happier?  Not really.  It might make them giddy for a moment, but the lasting effect is to make them selfish and spoiled!

Happiness is fleeting, at best.  Paul isn’t telling us to be happy.  He’s telling us, regardless of our circumstances, to be people of joy.  Happiness is a product of our circumstances; joy is a product of our relationships.

Be people of joy.  Paul writes these words from prison, less-than-happy circumstances.  But as he thinks about the people to whom he is writing, he is filled with joy because of his relationship with them, and their relationship, together, with God.

Happiness is fleeting, while joy lasts.  Happiness is a feeling, while joy is a disposition.  Happiness is rooted in our circumstances, while joy is rooted in our relationships.  As Christians, we are not called to be happy.  We are called to be people of joy.  If you remember nothing else I say today, remember this: to be a Christian is to be a person of joy.

Now, that doesn’t mean we’ll never have problems or concerns or difficulties.  It doesn’t mean you’ll never have a bad day.  It doesn’t mean going through life with some fake plastic smile on your face.

What it does mean, however, is that the light that shines within you is always brighter than the darkness that might be around you.  In all circumstances, we are called to be people of joy.  When life tries to get us down, God’s love lifts us up.  To be people of joy means that we are so filled with God’s presence, so filled with love toward God and all other people, that love and grace shine forth from every fiber of our being!

Take a look at this picture.  Which one of these people looks like a person who is filled with joy?  Based on that, which one do you suppose is probably the Christian? Do you ever find that people outside the faith are often more joyful people than we Christians can be?  Friends, as people of faith, we need to learn to loosen up and lighten up sometimes.  For goodness’ sake, we need to learn not to take ourselves so seriously all the time!

Mark Hart says, An annoyed and joyless Christian is the devil’s greatest billboard.”

Ever met a person for whom that description fits the bill?  More to the point, ever been that person?

I have to confess my own annoyance with those who claim to be Christians, and yet, are annoyed and joyless all the time.  It bothers me because it witnesses to something quite the opposite of who God is, and how we, as God’s people, created in God’s image, are to live.  What does it say about our faith if having faith puts a permanent scowl on our face?  How do we witness to the presence of God within us if we are mean, angry, and judgmental?

When I was in Boone, there was a man in the church there named Bill Roy.  Bill is one of the most joyful people I have ever met.  He frequently said, “There are far too many Christians who go through life looking sad, angry, and defeated. ‘I’m a Christian,’ they sigh, like it’s some horrible, awful, life-sucking burden.  They say it like they stopped having any fun and enjoying life the moment they became a Christian.  They’re so worried about who is going to make it into heaven, they’re putting the rest of us through hell.”

And then, he’d break into his trademark wide smile, throw his shoulders back, and say, “But the Christian life, it’s such a joyful thing!  When God is living in you, when you’re full of his love, it’s just such a joyful thing!  Like the Scripture today says, he was joyful in everything.

A joyless Christian?  No such thing, really.  The apostle Paul called us to be people of joy, because joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God.

How’s that for a good motto?  We are called to be people of joy.  If you remember nothing else today, remember this: to be a Christian is to be a person of joy.  Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God. 

May we be joyful in everything.  Even in circumstances that are less than happy, even on our bad days, may the love and grace and light of God’s presence within us be brighter than the circumstances around us.

Do You Know What Time It Is? (Luke 21:25-36, The First Sunday in Advent)

²⁵ “There will be signs in the sun, moon, and stars. On the earth, there will be dismay among nations in their confusion over the roaring of the sea and surging waves. ²⁶ The planets and other heavenly bodies will be shaken, causing people to faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world. ²⁷ Then they will see the Human One coming on a cloud with power and great splendor. ²⁸ Now when these things begin to happen, stand up straight and raise your heads, because your redemption is near. ”

²⁹ Jesus told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees. ³⁰ When they sprout leaves, you can see for yourselves and know that summer is near. ³¹ In the same way, when you see these things happening, you know that God’s kingdom is near. ³² I assure you that this generation won’t pass away until everything has happened. ³³ Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will certainly not pass away.

³⁴ “Take care that your hearts aren’t dulled by drinking parties, drunkenness, and the anxieties of day-to-day life. Don’t let that day fall upon you unexpectedly, ³⁵ like a trap. It will come upon everyone who lives on the face of the whole earth. ³⁶ Stay alert at all times, praying that you are strong enough to escape everything that is about to happen and to stand before the Human One.”

One of the advantages of living in this part of the country is our access to college sports.  In this part of North Carolina, we have our pick of great schools with great athletic programs, where loyalties run deep.

Camping out for Duke basketball seats in the tent city known as Krzyzewskiville is an honorable tradition reserved for the undergrad students, who have the privilege of camping out from the beginning of second semester until the game against the Tar Heels – over a month, usually, in January and February.

The graduate students got to do it a little differently.  In order to get our tickets, we camped out for one weekend, in September.  Campout lasted from 7pm Friday until 7am Sunday, and the rules were simple.  A whistle would be blown at random times throughout the weekend, and you had to check in.  Miss two check-ins, and you were out.  Those who survived, their names were put into a lottery, in order to be given the chance to purchase a student season ticket.

The whole weekend was a social experiment in 36 hours of sleep deprivation.

After my first year of campout, I went home, took a shower, and collapsed into bed.  When I awoke, I looked at my clock, which said 7:00.  I looked outside; it was cloudy and twilight, but I couldn’t tell if the sun was rising or setting.  Was it 7:00 pm?  7:00 am?  How long had I slept?  Was it Sunday evening?  Monday morning?  I was so disoriented and confused.  I just kept asking myself out loud, “What time is it?”

Coming into church in the weeks leading up to Christmas can be similarly disorienting.  All around us, the world is celebrating Christmastime.  You don’t have to be particularly religious to celebrate Christmastime.  Christmastime is a made-up season invented by retailers to get us to spend money at the end of the year.  The season starts earlier and earlier every year – I saw Christmas displays in some stores by the end of August this year – all in an attempt to get us to spend more this year than we did last year.

Christmastime is a season marked by excess – over-eating, over-drinking, over-partying, over-stressing, over-spending – with the illusion that we can purchase happiness tied up neatly with a big bow on top.  And yet, the only lasting gifts we receive are a few extra pounds, and a January credit card bill from you-know-where, not the lasting joy we were promised we would find at the end of the meal, the bottle, or the shopping list.

In the church, a completely different season happens at the same, and we call this season Advent.  Christmastime is a secular season, Advent is a holy season.  We become so accustomed to Christmastime being constantly in our face and we expect it everywhere, and when the church is keeping the rhythms of Advent – traditions that are a bit slower, more subdued, reflective.  It can be disorienting, and refreshing.

For the church, practicing Advent instead of Christmastime opens us up to a world of surprises.  Just take the lectionary Gospel passage from the 21^st chapter of Luke we read a few moments ago.  Were you paying attention to it?  It doesn’t sound like what we expect to hear at this time of year.  It reads, "There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among the nations confused by the roaring of the seas and the waves..."

I know what you're thinking – what does any of this have to do with Advent? Our thoughts already have turned toward putting up the Christmas tree and decorating our homes.  When you come to our house on Tuesday evening, you’ll see that it is definitely Christmastime, in our home, although we have wrapped our light post with blue and purple lights, and placed a purple bulb in the globe, as a sort of advent candle standing in our front yard.  But in the rest of the house, it’s definitely Christmastime – I’m not sure if elves or Martha Stewart have secretly been in to decorate.

On this first Sunday in Advent, we all would rather hear a message about Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus. Why does the church encourage us to consider this passage today?

Because, many of us need a wake-up call at this time of year. It is so easy to become distracted by the shopping, the stress, and the endless parties that we miss out on the "peace on earth and good will to all people."  We can get so focused on the presents we will buy or receive that we overlook the presence of Christ. "Wake up and don't miss out on the coming of Jesus!" is one message of Advent.

Not only does Advent try to wake us up, but it also invites us to look in two directions—back upon the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem and forward to Jesus' return as he brings God's kingdom on earth to fulfillment. Therefore, Advent always begins with a Scripture that looks toward Jesus' return. In other words, we begin by looking deep into the future—to the end of history.

The story is not just about baby Jesus.  To focus only on baby Jesus is to miss the point of the whole story.  There’s more to it; Advent invites us to consider the whole story.  We remember that Jesus came as a baby, he became one of us to redeem all of us, and we prepare for the time when he will come again to finish what he started, righting every wrong, overcoming every evil with grace and love.

Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?  It makes me wonder why when so many teachers and preachers talk about Christ coming again, they present it in such a way that it’ll scare the living daylights out of you.

In 1970, Hal Lindsey wrote a book entitled The Late Great Planet Earth. On its pages, Lindsey predicted that Christ would return by the year 1988. The book sold over 28 million copies! Well, when 1988 came and went and Christ did not return, they merely adjusted their numbers to buy a few more years and sell a few more books. Nearly thirty years later, we're still waiting.

Christ’s return isn’t a guessing game, it’s not a gimmick to sell books or raise money for ourselves, though we see countless prophets today who are doing just that.  Not a ploy to frighten people into faith.

The promise that Jesus will come again is something that should fill our hearts with hope, such that we lift our heads and rise up and soar to greet him in newfound heights, and yet it’s often delivered as some sort of veiled threat to get us to shape up and fly right.  “Jesus is coming, and boy, is he ticked!”  That can’t be the Gospel, the “good news” about Jesus, can it?

No, and here’s why.  The Scriptures consistently tell us, “God is Love,” as in 1 John 4:8.  They tell us that Jesus is the perfect embodiment of God, “the visible image of the invisible God,” as Colossians 1:15 puts it, the love of God with a human face.  The Bible further says, “Perfect love casts out all fear” (1 John 4:18).  And so, if God is Love, and if Jesus is the most perfect embodiment of that love, and if perfect love casts out fear, then anything to do with Jesus can’t also be associated with fear.

Our reading for this first Sunday in Advent proclaims that Christ's return is a source of hope.  In preparation for his birth, angels consistently brought the message, “Fear not.”  Lest we miss the point, Jesus and fear simply don’t go together.  If we’re practicing our faith in a way that induces fear, then we’re doing it wrong.

I would add that many of the events Jesus predicted have already taken place. In the year 70 AD, the Roman army invaded Jerusalem, destroyed the temple, and the earth shook with violence. Jesus warned his disciples that life would be difficult for all who sought to serve God in his time, and that certainly was true. It can still be difficult.  The promise to return was Jesus’ assurance that even when all hell breaks loose, we are not alone, help is coming, he is coming.

Further, to get fixated on the exact day and time of his return – something Jesus said no one other than God the Father, not even himself, knew – is to miss the reality that Christ comes to us and walks among us all the time.  Would it be that we would greet Christ in everyone we meet; would it be that they would see Christ in us.  Christ is among us all the time – would it be that we have the eyes to see him in our midst.

We cannot scare people into the kingdom of heaven or frighten them into faith.  They say you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, and you witness more faithfully to the activity of God in our world by offering hope to people rather than condemning and threatening them.

In our Scripture reading, when Jesus said, "Now when you see these things begin to take place, look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near," he wasn’t trying to frighten us or scare us straight. Those signs do not signal the end of the world; they signal that it’s time to start looking for Jesus.

Do you hear that? In the midst of tragedy, in the midst of war and rumors of war, in the midst of oppression and poverty, in the midst of our own personal losses, we can raise our heads and look for the Lord because he is near. Doesn’t mean that all our troubles get taken away.  It does mean that even in the midst of our greatest difficulty, we are not alone.  God is near.

Let me see if I can get at it this way. In the beginning God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. Where was God? In the darkness. On Easter morning, while it was still dark, Jesus rose from the dead. Where was God? In the darkness. When we sense that we are lost in the darkness, Advent reminds us that we are not alone. The God of hope is with us. Jesus warns us not to get distracted by the worries of this world. Lift up your eyes and look upward toward God because even in the midst of difficult times our Lord comes to us.

No matter how dark things may get, we are called to be the people who scan the horizon for light, confident that the sun will rise.  Christ will come. That is the message of Advent.  That is what it means to be a people of hope.

What time is it?  It is Advent – a time to watch and wait, and look for the coming Light of the World, especially when everything around us seems dark.  It’s time to look for Jesus, who is coming soon.  What time is it?  It’s a time to prepare.

This year, let’s prepare by turning away from fear, and turning toward hope.

Gracious God, for this season we are grateful. Wake us up. When we find ourselves in darkness, teach us to hope for your light.  In the midst of the busy-ness of this season, help us to hear your voice, sense your presence, worship you, and serve you in both word and deed. This we pray in the name of the Jesus the Christ. Amen.

Disciples of the King (John 18:33-37)

³³ Pilate went back into the palace. He summoned Jesus and asked, “Are you the king of the Jews?”

³⁴ Jesus answered, “Do you say this on your own or have others spoken to you about me?”

³⁵ Pilate responded, “I’m not a Jew, am I? Your nation and its chief priests handed you over to me. What have you done?”

³⁶ Jesus replied, “My kingdom doesn’t originate from this world. If it did, my guards would fight so that I wouldn’t have been arrested by the Jewish leaders. My kingdom isn’t from here.”

³⁷ “So you are a king?” Pilate said.

Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. I was born and came into the world for this reason: to testify to the truth. Whoever accepts the truth listens to my voice.”

"My kingdom is not of this world,” says Jesus. No kidding. That seems pretty obvious. Yet at the same time, working for Jesus’ kingdom, praying for “thy kingdom come” is a rather difficult endeavor when it seems so far away from the reality that we know and in which we live. The kingdoms of our world could hardly be more opposite than the kingdom Jesus has in mind.

When we hear the word “king” or “kingdom,” any number of images may come to mind.  Maybe we think of a gilded throne, a crown encrusted with jewels, or a royal palace.  Maybe we think of fine robes, vast riches, huge tracts of land.  Maybe we think of power and authority, giving commands and orders that are followed or else.  All of this is part of a certain image when we think of the word “king,” something regal, something with pomp and circumstance – we have this image from the world around us of who a king is and what a king does, and Jesus just doesn’t fit these notions.

Today is Christ the King Sunday, we celebrate this Sunday precisely because of our Christian belief that Jesus is the King of kings. He is the fulfillment of the covenant made with David to forever have one of his heirs sitting on the cosmic throne (2 Samuel 23). When Handel’s Messiah gets performed and played umpteen times across the upcoming holiday season, those who belt out the words “King of kings and Lord of lords” in the famous “Hallelujah Chorus” will be stating it plainly: Jesus is King.

But in John 18 we encounter that King in a most compromised and humble station. Hands bound behind him, his lip split and his cheek puffy from where one of the high priest’s officials had whacked him (cf. John 18:22), Jesus doesn’t look like a king.  More like a car accident victim. Or someone who went one too many rounds with Rocky Balboa in the boxing ring.

By contrast, Pilate, the Roman governor, looks the role of a king-like figure. A palace, a garrison of soldiers, the ability to decide another man’s fate with a word or a gesture.  Like any important person, Pilate’s schedule was probably chockfull of appointments and meetings and P.R. appearances.  The last thing he had time for was this man from Nazareth (who looked about as threatening as Murray the Grocer) – this would-be “King of the Jews.”

Pilate almost felt sorry for this Jesus fellow who now stood before him – what a pathetic and preposterous notion that this Jesus could, in any conceivable or credible way, be considered a king.

And perhaps that’s exactly the point.  Jesus just doesn’t fit the part of what we understand about kings and kingdoms.  We’ve taken the sum total of everything we know and have observed about the power structures of this world, we’ve tried to impose those onto Jesus, and Jesus just doesn’t fit the part.

How often have we placed expectations upon someone else?  How often have others failed to live up to our expectations?  Imposing our own set of expectations on other people is a guaranteed recipe for frustration, disappointment, and heartache.  I’ve found that my pre-conceived notions and unspoken expectations on others are an unnecessary burden in my relationships with them.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be the kind of person who is constantly disappointed in others because they didn’t live up to my expectations of what I think they should do and be.  Rather, I want to be the kind of person who can notice and appreciate who they are on their own terms, with their unique gifts and perspectives.  Often, they bring things to the table that surprise me and challenge me and force me to re-think my pre-conceived ideas.  But when our hearts and minds are open and ready to receive and appreciate, we see things that move us past our own understanding and expectations, such that we catch a glimpse of something more.

When it comes to our expectations on Jesus and his kingdom, he confounds and challenges us in the same way.  Jesus’ vision for us is simply, “something more.”  Something more than our expectations, something more than our pre-conceived notions, something more than what we are so often willing to settle for.

Growing up in Western New York, I have always been a Buffalo Bills fan from a young age.  I thought there was a direct correlation between the intensity of my prayers for a Bills win and how they actually performed on the field.  When they won, it was obviously because of whatever God and I worked out in my prayers, and when they lost, it was obviously because I just hadn’t prayed hard or long enough.

For several years, my sister and her husband lived in southern Massachusetts.  They live in Hickory, now, but my nephews are still fans of, God bless them, the New England Patriots.  Can you believe it, the Patriots?  Can anything good come out of Foxborough?

So, you can imagine a scenario in which the two teams are playing one another; I am praying for a Bills victory, my nephews are praying for a Patriots victory, but at the end of the day, only one of those prayers is going to be answered.  Does that mean that God was listening to one side and ignoring the other?  Does it mean that God favors one over the other?  Or, does it mean that, in our smallness, we were both praying for things we wanted and desired, without the realization that God’s desire and will was about something more than the outcome of a football game?

Likewise, could it be that the will of God, the kingdom of God, is about something more than our own personal desires and expectations?  Something more than what we want or demand, because Jesus wants more for us than we often want for ourselves.

The way of his kingdom is probably not the way we would choose.  Not what we desire.  Not what we asked for, not what we wanted.  We have trouble recognizing the kingdom of Jesus because it doesn’t look like what we expected. 

As people of faith, we all want God’s kingdom to come.  We pray for it every time we pray the Lord’s Prayer. But we short-circuit who Jesus is when we forget that the resurrected Jesus was first the crucified Jesus.  David Crowder says, “Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die.”  We all want the gain without the pain, we all want to enjoy the benefits without having to pay the costs.

We all want the resurrected Jesus, the ascended to the right hand of God the Father and reigning in glory Jesus.  We want separating-the-sheep-from-the-goats Jesus, riding in on clouds of thunder Jesus, smiting the evil and wicked Jesus – that’s the Jesus we’re all waiting on, glory hallelujah!  Instead, we get the “my kingdom is not of this world” Jesus, the “if it were, my people would be fighting you” Jesus.

We all want Jesus the victorious, Christ the conqueror, and, yes, the story will get there, but we cannot ignore the road it takes in doing so.

There are countless stories from literature and history of kings and queens who would disguise themselves in common clothes and sneak out to mingle among the people.  The ones I admire most are the ones who were trying to gain an understanding of what ordinary people were going through, taking on some of their situation.

In Jesus, we have a king who did the same thing – one who willingly left the splendor of heaven in order to become one of us, to experience what we experience, to take on the fullness of our humanity with all its frailties and weaknesses, subjecting himself to and taking on powers and forces in our world that are less-than-noble – Jesus did all of that because of his great love for us!  Our King is none other than Jesus who humbled himself and became one of us in order to redeem all of us.

Jesus stands before Pilate with all power and authority at his fingertips, yet he refuses to use it to his own advantage.  Won’t use it for self-preservation or personal gain.  John Wesley said “Love is God’s reigning attribute,” and in Jesus’ resolution to give himself in order to give life to the whole world, we see that primary characteristic of God’s abundant and unconditional love on full display for all to see.

Both the way into and the way of Jesus’ kingdom is the way of self-giving, sacrificial love.  Yet, you and I don’t have the strength or the character or the resolve to love like that, so we look to the One who does, and we ask for his help to live his way, that we might be selfless and generous toward others as God in Christ has been toward us, that as, the recipients and beneficiaries of matchless love and infinite grace, we might show that love and grace toward others.

And friends, that’s the hard part.  For people of faith, we must each come to a point where we stop trying to squeeze Jesus into a box that satisfies our expectations and desires.  Being a follower of Jesus is living such that, by the grace of God, his way becomes our way.

Being a follower of Jesus will be the most counter-cultural thing you can do.  When we find ourselves trying to cozy up to the structures of this world, King Jesus just won’t let us fit in.  Too much forgiveness and turning the other cheek.  Too much compassion and not enough common sense.  Too much practicing peace and not enough displays of power.  Too much love and grace, not enough might when he had every right – that’ll get you killed in a world like ours – what kind of king would go for that?

Our king would, and he did.  He followed that grace-filled path all the way to his death on a cross, where the ironic, upside-down nature of God’s kingdom was put on full display for all the world to see.  No greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends, Jesus’ reign of love and light at its pinnacle when he was lifted high for all the world to see – lifted not to a throne, but on the hard, cruel wood of a Roman cross.  It looks to most like the moment of greatest defeat, but to those who can see it through the eyes of faith, it is God’s greatest victory as his strength is made perfect in weakness.

If you’re looking for the coming kingdom, don’t look to the powerful and wealthy. No, start looking for the scarred ones.  The ones who are burdened, who are bruised, beat-up and broken.  Look to them and treat them with Love, for a king moves among them.

What kind of king is this?  He’s our king.  Not the king we would have chosen, but definitely the one we need.

“My kingdom is not of this world,” says Jesus.  No kidding.  And thank God.